


Rent: Requests

by Stattic_Scribbles



Category: Rent (2005), Rent - Larson
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, also nobody is dead, im calling this an au because I can’t be arsed to remember what tech they had in the 80’s/90s, in which mark has an oral fixation and Roger has sugar to replace his smack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:02:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24717235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stattic_Scribbles/pseuds/Stattic_Scribbles
Summary: A collection of RENT imagines from my tumblr. Request are open; please send them in through my Tumblr; which can be found here:https://stattic-writes.tumblr.com/post/184300196529/guidelines
Relationships: Benjamin Coffin III/Mimi Marquez, Joanne Jefferson/Maureen Johnson, Mark Cohen/Roger Davis, Roger Davis/Mimi Marquez, Thomas B. Collins/Angel Dumott Schunard
Kudos: 13





	1. Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> In which Mark and his family make cookies

Mark being from Scarsdale means he’s the only one of them to have actual family recipes. Being Mark he has no concept of how to actually cook them and he refuses to ask Maureen because he’s convinced she’ll poke and prod until he confesses that he never learned because his mother was paranoid he’d burn the house down.

When Angel and Mimi dig the book out from the closet, trying to make room for both of their clothes as Mark had offered it to them if they needed, he confessed he hadn’t actually gone through it. They refuse to do anything else until Mark cooks with them.  
Collins makes the decision that they’ll be making sugar cookies; it’s close enough to Christmas they can decorate them with the food colouring Marueen had brought over, and he knows there would be five hundred alterations to the other recipes with how most of them were content to shove whatever they had in the pantry into it claiming it was a replacement.

Joanne comes in with the ingredients they were missing; Benny having called and explained what he had been roped into when he’d come home from work.  
Joanne is glaring at the recipe and Mark sheepishly tries to hide behind Angel and Maureen who keep stealing bites of the dough.  
“Will you two quit it. Mark what is this word… Your mother’s handwriting is a mess; I see where you get it from.” Mark sighs carefully rewriting the recipe out and passing it to Joanne.  
“I meant to ask one of those thief’s to write it out; they have the best handwriting.”  
“Hey!” Mimi shouts from the couch where she’s half relaxing on Benny half painting her nails.  
“You’re too busy. Otherwise I’d ask you since you have the best handwriting besides myself.”

“What about my penmanship?”  
“If you weren’t so into music you could be a doctor based on that scrawl you call handwriting…” Maureen laughs almost grabbing another spoonful but Mark smacks her on the hand with a spoon and she glares but settles back towards the couch holding her hand out for Mimi to paint. Angel sits next to her pulling out metallic purple polish to start on their toes.  
“Roger great; come here.” Joanne nods and he looks unimpressed to the half mixed dough almost spilling out of the bowl.  
“So how much does this make?” He arches his eyebrow and Mark shrugs.  
“Like five dozen.”

“FIVE DOZEN?” Joanne glares and the couch group cheer.  
“Oh my god we’re going to be making cookies for the entire night!” Collins chokes on his coffee and Benny tries to laugh into his hand but fails; soon the entire group is either stifling giggles or laughing at the poor planning.  
“Just because I play guitar doesn’t mean my arm can handle this.” Roger’s huffs having been given the duty of mixing.

“Well thank god for the years you spent jacking off then; that’ll help with your arm strength.” Joanne comments dryly and Maureen actually hits the floor with how hard she’s laughing.  
“You two should know better; I haven’t had to do that for years; not with Markieeeee here.” He stretches out Mark’s nickname and smirks when they both roll their eyes.  
Collin and Benny are on rolling duty and Angel and Mimi cut everything out while Mark rewinds his camera.  
They make it through the actual baking; leaving all five dozen cookies; cut out like hearts and gingerbread people to cool.

They come back to the cookies minus a dozen; Mimi and Roger taking the blame, unable to escape the scrutiny of Maureen when she spots cookie crumbs under their nails.  
“So for frosting; I figured we could mix up.. ROGER NO!” Benny shoves him back before Roger can grab the massive bowl filled with vanilla frosting. He does however manage to grab the spoon which he promptly shoves into his mouth enjoying the mound of sugar he’s currently eating.

“Jesus christ.” Angel glares and Joanne makes Benny mix another batch of frosting to make up for his failure at preventing Roger and his sugar cravings from stealing the main mixing spoon. They’re also not sure how much frosting they actually need as they’ll be separating it and mixing it into smaller coloured batches. Mimi’s glaring at Roger; who’s spoon stealing has just earned both of them a ban from the kitchen until it’s time to actually decorate the cookies.

Mark’s winding his camera content to set in on a stack of books to film everyone as each of the group is assigned a colour to mix. Angel had insisted they do the full rainbow of colours and Mimi had dug around to find edible glitter she’d kept so they added that as well. Now with the rainbow of colours properly glittered do they call Roger in who’s still licking the icing from the spoon and Mimi who’d been hovering behind Benny as he’d mixed the green.  
“So… Fine, okay fine; Jesus I’ll finish this and then wash my hands mom. Christ you’d think we were making freaking gold dipped cookies or some shit; they’re just little rainbow hearts and little… is that glitter?”   
“You know maybe if you weren’t deep throating the fucking frosting spoon you-” Roger leans forward examining the purple and before anyone can explain the ten minute conversation he missed the spoon he’d stolen is firmly dunked into it.

“ROGER.” He laughs grinning as he successfully pulls the bowl over to the couch with the spoon. Mimi laughs as Mark is sent over to do damage control while Benny looks like he’s about to cry; having been handed another bowl and the ingredients to the frosting.  
“I’m sorry okay! I can’t help it; sugar helps…”  
“With..” Mark leads on and Roger glares.  
“With the cravings for heroin; happy?” Roger glares tongue moving to lick the spoon; Mark stares a little too long and Roger smirks back. Teeth tinted slightly purple.  
“Shouldn’t you be-” He pauses to suck the entire spoon, tongue swirling around the back of it.  
“Chewing me out?” He continues to talk, Mark glares swallowing and turning his head slightly. Roger’s smirk grows and his teeth clank against the spoon.

“Mark; you need to remix the purple; and we need that spoon… We’re all out otherwise.” Maureen nods towards Roger who just looks up to Mark a lazy grin on his face.  
“Take it then.”  
“I’ll take it if you don’t give it to him in like five minutes; since that’s when Benny’s going to be finished with the next batch.”  
“So what if we have too much frosting.”

“You can eat the extra and get the mother of all sugar crashes in like two days.” Collins assures and Roger reluctantly hands over the spoon to Mark who looks only slightly disappointed.  
“So now that everything has been made we can all decorate; Roger you can have as much of the leftover frosting as you want once all of the cookies are done.. Don’t you dare eat the cookies instead of decorating them or so help me.”


	2. Black Fade: Mark/Roger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk Mark thought it was a great idea

Mark hadn’t meant to get blackout drunk but he’d always been a lightweight and he usually got free drinks for showing up to Roger’s shows with his camera and the fake press badge that Angel had made him as a Christmas joke. He'd only gone to support Roger and to avoid Maureen who was having issues with Joanne and saw no point in not complaining to her most recent ex how horrible her current partner was and it had just ended with Mark being dragged to Rogers gig slightly earlier so Maureen could whine and pout that Mark shouldn't go after boys like she goes after girls; that dealing with the same sex wasn't something he was suited to.  
When he wakes up on the loft’s couch he could almost cry in relief; he can spot his shoes where he’d kicked them off and sighs; but almost chokes on it when he doesn’t recognise the clothes he’s wearing; they fit him; the pants scuffed along one leg and the shirt reeking of alcohol and a dark black with some sort of faded logo that Mark doesn’t bother deciphering as he shoves it off. His memory flickering at the feel of the material dragging on his skin.

“I just; Maureen is stupid for making fun of me;” Mark doesn’t wait for the other figure to say anything tugging his shirt off of him and shoving himself against the figure.  
“She doesn’t understand; why can’t she understand I’m not greedy for wanting him; I’m not.” Mark snarls the last words and the figure smiles into the next kiss; almost laughing. The figure; now definitely a male runs his tongue along Mark’s neck when they pull away; he mumbles something almost into Mark’s shoulder and Mark struggles to remember what it is; his memory playing out like the film he shoots; shaky and silent.  
He’s aware of the man asking him who he wants, whispering into his ear that he can be anyone Mark needs.  
“Roger Davis…” His voice flickers and Mark realizes they haven’t left the club; he’s relieved when the man casts a look to the stage before pulling Mark into the hazey darkness of the night.

It takes Mark a moment to adjust his mind having gone blank and missing the reel of getting from the club to the man’s bedroom. He sits on the couch head in his hands and sighs; Collins appears grinning; Angel is next to him moments later laughing in equal measure and Mark takes the coffee Collin’s offers out trying not to grimace too much as his muscles feel stiff.  
“Rough night then?”  
“I’m still figuring it out.” He nods to Angel who smiles.

“You were talking at the club; complaining very loudly how Maureen; despite being into both guys and girls said that you being into guys wasn’t something she could picture.”  
“Yeah. I remember that.”  
“Then you got another drink; went to say hello to Benny and vanished after.”  
“Vanished? You have no clue who I went home with?”  
“Roger went out to get a smoke and said he wasn’t worried with whoever he saw you with; said you were in good hands.”  
“Good hands; ughh I’m so fucked.”  
“His exact words, ‘Mark is in good hands; don’t worry.’ I think you were fucked; from that trail of hickey’s you’re sporting.” Angel giggles and Mark shoves the shirt down from where it had bunched up; the hickey’s lining his hip and slightly lower that’s covered from the jeans.

“Hah; yeah were you in good hands? Roger would only say that about one of us; or a band member…” Collins joins in and Mark sinks back into the couch.  
“So I have to wait for Roger to wake up; of course he won’t be up till like one right? How late was he out?”  
“He was home when we got in at two am, was eating dinner; you know how he does after a fuck; so you must’ve gotten home after us; since we didn’t see you on the couch.”  
“Ugh thanks anyways.” Mark sighs trying to focus on what he does remember to see if that drags out any more memories from last night.  
He’s rewarded with a glimpse of the man; the jeans riding lower than on Mark and the man’s hands directing Mark’s body towards a back alley.

“Shortcut.” The words are distorted and Mark panics in the memory realizing he has not told this man where he lives but he seems to be bringing him back to the loft. It skips again and Mark is starting to regret every drink he’d had, as all he’s bombarded with is the feeling of skin on skin and a warmth so intense it steals his voice from his throat. It feels like hands are everywhere at once; running up and down his spine and curling around his chest and neck; hands keeping his own from moving. He can feel teeth next; seeing them is blinding. When he registers what his own mouth is forming he knows he should be embarrassed; he doesn’t know this man’s name and all he can speak is Roger’s. He knows it says something about him that he can’t help it. He feels as if he’s in his own darkroom; undergoing development; Roger the ever present; drowning force that is changing; showing him his true self. Mark blames the alcohol for the flowery words but he tries his best to scratch out the itch that Roger always made him feel complete; always made him feel seen; despite how he’d hide on the other side of his film.

He also knows he can never say a word of this to Roger; his best friend and roommate; sure they had been through more than most regular couples had; but they were meant to be friends; fated to always be near each other and from Mark’s point of view to never intersect or touch longer than a half faded moment on the screen.  
He’s brought out of his introspection by the devil himself; clad in a pair of half mangled jeans and the remnants of some eyeliner; not that Mark is focused on any of that as Roger stands; head tilted as Mark doesn’t bother hiding staring at his bare chest.

“Roger holy shit put a fucking shirt on!” Mark gapes; Roger looks over his shoulder and pouts slightly; Mark doesn’t notice his eyes travelling up and down Roger’s back where there are faint red lines up and down his back, scratches from whoever he had last night.  
“I can’t.”  
“Bullshit.” Mark huffs and Roger blinds him with his smile.  
“You’re wearing it genius.”


End file.
